Crystal Belle's Blog
July 14, 2010
Spalding
Niggas are playing basketball
Standing tall in public stalls
Of exploitation
Led by NBA commissioners
Positions allow players
To point guard layers
Of paychecks
That scream:
Run nigger, run!"
Don't stand under the forward sun
'Cuz you'll get blacker
And blacker only means
You'll run up and down the court more.
Don't forget your athletic chores
Score at least 15 points per game
In order to claim the bodies of your groupies
For you are a trophy Black star
And in this arena your tar
Is
Accepted
Expected
Respected
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July 7, 2010
For Sale
Remember the day you
discovered you were a woman?
Blood in between your legs,
breasts burgeoning from your
once flat chest.
You told your friends about it,
proud of your graduation into grace.
Remember the day you
left home with the man in the
shiny car? He told you just how
nice your face looked when you
smiled; your baby teeth had just left.
Remember the first time he
took your sanity? He forced you
to work the track and to
shut the fuck of up before he
killed your...
June 10, 2010
Mr. Big White Man
1.
You thought I was afraid of
Your privilege,
Forgetting that I had my own
Carved out just for Blackies like me.
When you speak {to me} your jargon is transparent
Reflecting your ownership of thoughts and bodies.
My consternation is something you cannot have
Nor can you step down on my thoughts that run like Rogues.
Mr. Big White Man, my plans are my own now.
I will not plow for you
I will not cower for you
So
Do not tower over me
Or shower me with contempt
2.
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May 29, 2010
My Untitled Heart
from consumerist lesions and smiles that are painted on with invisible hands.
yet still, supply and demand
are people's pick-me-ups
and the sweet scent of positivity is considered corrupt.
when it rains, the sky drops pieces of the pie I can never attain
despite my wealth of spirit.
but I go to work every day, praying for the change that was promised.
I don't want to be rich, only heard
by those who write the checks and protect the peace of power.
outside of my tenement w...
April 24, 2010
Eulogy for Akua
They found her dead on Eastern Parkway
with a pink ipod in the palm of her hand; it was still playing:
Jimi Hendrix- "Cocaine."
The concrete didn't recognize the color of her skin, nor the color
Of her eyes. It did however recognize that her body was foreign-- transplanted from some unknown space in a forbidden placecenturies before.Her hair was a deep shade of red, one that made blood look dullon white tiles. This hair was combined of wool and wires but straight at the ends.
"She's a goner...
March 15, 2010
the joint
you want to forget.
he is a small man with small hands and colorful hair.
nobody ever sees him, except when you call him for the Stuff.
his name: Choco.
last night we called him. we wanted an aphrodisac. something to make our bed brighter.
"hello?"
"yeah this is Blue. i need a dime."
"cool, meet me downstairs."
we go downstairs to wait for Choco. the air is cool but not cold, reminding you and i that spring is on its...
March 14, 2010
Vanity
The glass remains shiny, brilliant,
almost as if a face had never appeared before its presence.
And yet this glass has all of the power
To make you or break you in two.
You think about People magazine and the most beautiful people list
wanting to enlist in that lifestyle.
But according to the mirror your smile is not enough
because it is not bleached, polished, fabricated, forced to be better.
There are several mirro...
February 16, 2010
Strictly for Sean
he lay in a pool of purple blood.
Black. Brown. Dark. his. Skin. shined
as his fiancée cried
out to a world that
could not hear her or the two children
that didn't cry
because they did not yet understand.
what good is understanding
when 50 shots can be justified by justice paradigms
that define your worth by your hue
and your intelligence by I.Q.s?
bang, bang, bang, bang, bang
now multiply that by ten and what do you get?
another unfed child in a single...
February 1, 2010
It's Not Fair That...
trapped under his skin,
nor is it fair that he cannot win
just because his body isn't qualified to play.
she gave birth to him, in a playground
where rounds of rage were served daily near the bodega
and the enigma of the White, White house
on the High, High hill
is what
managed to kill the entire community.
he looked like magic, but everybody thought
he was a curse
so he cursed when he spoke
and stole when he could so that what he should be
he was
January 25, 2010
The Gravity of Inequity
walk four hundred years in our skin
shoes just won't do for you
neither will stealing our blues and making millions off of it in vain
while we feel the pain
the disdain you feel for we
you'll see through eyes behind the flesh that you detest
making pigment protest on streets built by callous hands
while water hoses create death on demand
imagine the abnormality of the reality
you hanging from trees
the strangest of fruit, your truth
but who cares about the truth
when your rainbow isn't ...